Frank Dieselwang Battles Reiters Bloch!

It’s not as though Frank intended to let his writer fail to document his greatness, as he mused looking through the fourth wall, but it’s more a collective failure of things. Even the greatest of men, Frank Dieselwang, has to rest and recover sometimes. Self care is important, he noted to himself with a growing sense of sincerity that could give Mary Poppins a run for her money. Yes, that’s it, thought Frank Dieselwang who was definitely not just thinking what the author was thinking at the particular moment in a fit of self insertion.

As Frank mulled this over, suddenly there was a knock on the door. Frank opened it and with ultra natural quickness and mental acuity, noticed a gun barrel barely dodged a gunshot from the gun barrel that was aimed at the position his head formerly occupied. The gun was held by his nemesis, Reiters Bloch!

“Reiters Bloch! My strongest of foes!”

“Yes it is I, Reiters Bloch!” Reiters Bloch cackled at first and then trailed off into silence, staring down Frank. Frank stared back at Bloch, mirroring his silence. 

Time passed. Frank grew restless, and lulled into Reiters Bloch’s pace. The pace of nothing at all. The pace of despondency that one gets when someone writes something really heartfelt, puts it online and receives no likes, favorites, or +1s. But a feeling, deep within Frank, one of his largest muscles, began to beat. 

It was probably his bicep, the writer doesn’t have an anatomy degree after all. With the beating of the bicep, Frank focused within and knew he had to continue to fight instead o laying down to take a wonderful nap, as appealing as that was. Frank roared and got ready to punch the living daylights out of Reiters Bloch. But Reiters wasn’t there. Frank looked down at the doorstep. There was a note, with no return address, because notes don’t have return addresses.

It said “Watch yourself. Or I’ll be back.”

Frank grimly looked at the note, then tacked it to his refrigerator. 

Frank Dieselwang and the Boogie Monster (at night)

It was a dark and nightly night, the night that bespoke of how nightish it was. It was the kind of night that if a person were to walk out into the time of night, they would remark on how the quality of the night were particularly pronounced, more than usual, which is to say a lot. Frank Dieselwang was out on this night, and to display that he was as much a human as you or I, he said these words as well.

“The quality of the night is particularly pronounced tonight,” he said, just to illustrate the point once more.

The moon shone brightly, as bright as something that is worth remarking upon, but we’ve already beaten that joke to death already, so, yeah, don’t worry about it.

On this nightly night, Frank was walking about unafraid, fully cognizant of his male privilege which allowed him to do so, as well as his muscles privilege, of which he had tremendous amounts for which he could actually defend himself if the need arose and he hoped it would not because violence can be a bad thing sometimes when used indiscriminately, but it will be ok as long as the author makes it clear it is ok. 

Suddenly a boogie monster jumped out of the nearby bush and made a threatening motion. 

Frank stopped and stared it down and said “Hey buddy, watch out!”

The boogie monster stopped and said “Oh sorry I didn’t think anyone was out at this time of night.”

Frank said, “It’s ok, just watch where your going with your keen night vision.” Frank knew this because he was a noted boogie monsterologist, and he knew this one was generally nonviolent but certain individuals were careless.

The boogie monster grumbled off into the forest, taking care to watch where it was going.

Just another day (well, actually night) in the life of Frank Dieselwang.

Frank Dieselwang and the Person who pet cats in the wrong direction.

Frank Dieselwang came across someone who was unintentionally petting the cat in the wrong direction, and the cat was clearly distraught.

Frank looked at this person and said "Hey the cat doesn't like that you should do it this way," and demonstrated the proper technique.

The person looked as though a light bulb had exploded in their head, but in a good way, and nodded agreeably, "Oh, I see!"

And all was well.

Frank Dieselwang Vs. Christmas Coming Prematurely

It was early November, and Frank Dieselwang was looking over stuffing and cranberry related recipes in an adorable hand me down apron when the Dieselphone started to blink, a landline that indicated he was an important business sort of person in this day and age because who really has landlines these days except people who are important business sorts of people.

“Frank Dieselwang, and Thanksgiving Prep Central, what can I do for you?” Frank Dieselwang said, affecting a somewhat fatherly tone in the spirit of the holidays, subconsciously mimicking in a fond way the fatherly figures in his life from when he was a lad, even though mostly they were still alive so it wasn’t really so much wistful as it was a homage to them as good people.

“Frank, it’s even worse this year,” said the voice of Yodlinda P. Sweetpeas with the urgency of someone who had something really urgent to say. 

Originally taken by Geek2Nurse

“What is it?” he asked, because he wanted to know what it was that was worse this year.

“It’s Christmas, and it’s coming even earlier this year.” Yodlinda’s grimace was evident even through this auditory method of communication.

Frank Dieselwang and the Man with Angry Hands

"My hands are super angry and I am going to punch you," shouted the man with Angry hands, let's call him Bill.

"Hey Bill, you better calm down," Frank warned him off.

Bill stared back suspiciously, his hands muttering angrily, "How did you know my name was Bill?"

"You know that's a good question but let's not dwell on that too much."

Bill threw the tray of fast food on the ground, which the author neglected to mention, "Enough talk, let's do this."

Frank, bastion of peace and caring, held up his hands in the universal gesture of "hey, let's not fight."

"Hey, let's not fight," Frank said.

Bill charged at him, roaring in a roaring fashion.

Frank sighed and punched Bill so hard Bill was blasted into the durable plastic bench and was knocked out cold and then he stopped talking.

Frank apologized for causing a scene and ordered a hamburger, because it was cheat day.

Frank Dieselwang vs. Pumpkin Smashers LLC Part 2

Frank had just finished cleaning out the store with a mighty throw, chucking the 50 pound trash bag of crumbled pumpkin and squash type muck into a dumpster as though it were merely 5 pounds, which was a strong but not guaranteed indicator that Frank was ten times stronger than a normal man, but clearly it can be seen that he is one not to be messed with, in spite of his good humor and being good with children. 

Original content taken by Alexander

Cinderella smiled at him, “I thought you were just here to be the muscle, but it seems you have a really good sensibility when it comes to sanitary practices and a helpful kind manner.”

Frank clapped the pumpkin goop off his hands, and grinned back at her, “No problem Ms. Hubbard, it’s the least that I could do, as a kind person and not because I am a man who is trying to get into your pants,” which was clearly a trustworthy thing to say since he was trustworthy and you’ll have to take the author’s word for it.

Suddenly, a thunderous crash sounding like fifty pumpkins being smashed with steel bats rang from across the street, blasting away the peace and the risk that the reader would be subject to some rather poor conversational writing. As Frank, Cinderella, and that easily forgotten generic side character who I guess we’ll call Bob because it’s faster, looked over, they saw the villains of the story staring them down, wearing various terrible costumes  but all with the logo of a hammer and a pumpkin beneath it, and fire and sparks and clearly the author should commission some art because sometimes a picture is worth a lot, like maybe a bit more than 999 words, but not necessarily more than 1001. 

Frank stared them down through the newly washed window through the stained glass pumpkins and acorn squash that decorated the window, then stepped out of the store to face them. “You must be the Pumpkin Smashing Gang.”

Their leader, who was clearly their leader because of their increased height and shoulder broadness, as well as the totally sweet looking mask that looked like the top half of a smashed Jack O Lantern, bellowed back a correction. “Actually we are the Pumpkin Smashers LLC! We find that the advantages of this structure allow us to be more competitive with other smashing groups due to more favorable tax treatment!”

Frank smirked and pounded his right hand into his left palm, a few times, to make the point clear that they were in for a pounding. “Alright Pumpkin Smashers S Corp, you’re going down!”

The leader picked up their bat and roared back, charging forward with the anger of a train engine that could express the anger of emotion, bat held high, “I said LLC!”

Frank met their charge head on, batting the bat out of the leader’s hand like a bat hit by a bat, with his left hand, and punched their face with a meaty right hand. 

“Well I guess that means, you’re liable to get smacked down,” quipped Frank, belying a deep enough understanding of LLCs to make a relevant joke.

With the a sudden crack, like the kind you see in a plumber’s jeans as they lean underneath your sink, the semi Jack O’ Lantern mask cracked on the leader’s freshly punched face, splitting into two equal approximately equal parts. The leader’s distinctly feminine appearing face was a surprise to Frank momentarily, but that surprise was quickly dashed by the look of menacing snarliness on their face. 

Frank looked at her curiously nonetheless, “Oh, I had no idea you were a woman!”

She growled back at him, “I consider myself a man!”

Frank nodded, relenting, “Then you are a man. Let us duel, man to man in this case, because even though you are a foe I respect your identity!”

The leader nodded back “Thanks, I appreciate that, but unfortunately this pumpkin store needs to be smashed, and you are in the way, so  we will smash you as well!” He growled, “Get him!” The leader pointed a finger forward, at Frank, and not a coincidence. The gang, I mean LLC, charged forward. Belated, it should be mentioned that there were twenty of them, aside from the leader.

Frank easily handled two of them, grabbing their heads and smashing them towards each other like two hands clapping, clocking them together like two heads being hit into each other, and their heads made a dull thudding noise, as dull as a calculus teacher is to a student who really dislikes calculus.

He turned around, setting the manliest of jaws in a deep grimace, bracing for impact with the other 18, which is a number we know of based on arithmetic. 

With a sudden repetitious impact, three heads were slammed with what sounded like a hard hollow object at rapid pace. Frank looked up at his surprising ally, Cinderella “Sugar Pie” Hubbard, brandishing a staff tipped with two laminated pumpkins on the ends. 

She smiled back at him as she held the remaining 15 off if you were keeping count. “By the way, I know Pump-Kin-Do, and I just needed help, not a hero. Thanks for the help!” With that she yelled an amazonian cry and charged into the Fray, Frank laughing behind her as he rushed to support her defense of Gourdness Gracious.

To be continued…. 

Frank Dieselwang vs. the Pumpkin Smashers LLC part 1

The One Stop Squash Store, Gourdness Gracious, was arrayed in shambles, orange flesh and gore covering the room, a testament to the dudebomb that just exploded there, which is not an actual bomb, but definitely a bunch of dudes that went in and went apeshit in it, causing such damage that it appeared like a bomb had went off.

Taken by mikekanyo

"We can't handle another attack like this!" bellowed Cinderella "Sugar Pie" Hubbard, frustration evident on her frustration covered face. "The Pumpkin Smashing Gang We need someone to stop this from happening again!"

Hands on her highly functional hips that don't lie because hips are incapable of expressing thoughts, let alone vocalizing them, Cinderella was a picture of entirely justified anger that would not be derided or looked down upon because of her gender like in other fiction even from well meaning authors.

"Whatever shall we do!" simpered a generic side character who will be forgotten as soon as this sentence ends. "The police won't help because of some convenient reason that requires us to pursue alternative methods of recourse!"

Suddenly, the door swung open, pushed open by a tanned rough callused hand that bespoke of a lifetime of being in the outdoors, hard work, and probably punching things. This hand was followed by a similarly tanned, rough, but not callused forearm, then a bicep, and a shoulder, and finally a head.

This head, belonged to Frank Dieselwang.

"I hear you have a problem, that needs to be squashed."

"Actually, squash is our business, but we do need a man of your...qualifications, " Cinderella's eyes flicked up and down his well sculpted frame, which appeared to be carved out of mahogany, and detailed like a luxury car that just got detailed. She also checked out his package.

Frank smiled at her correction, his masculinity not being so fragile that the tiniest correction would make him fly off the handle like some people, not naming names, and nodded. "We'll get this shop back in order, or my name isn't Frank Dieselwang."

Which it was.